Softly, Darkly
by Roseblade22
Summary: No one else wanted the job, so she took it. Nothing else was amusing to him, so he tested her. Neither of them fully realized the gravity of their choices, but only one of them would survive.
1. Chapter 1: Just Breathe

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Hunter x Hunter; only my plot and my original characters belong to me.

**Summary:** No one else wanted the job, so she took it. Nothing else was amusing to him, so he tested her. Neither of them fully realized the gravity of their choices, but only one of them would survive.

**Author's Note: **I am so excited to get to start on this story. I haven't written any stories with an OC character for a very, very long time—like eight plus years! For those of you who don't know me, I am a ten-year veteran of fanfiction, and I like to use writing as a tool to explore characters I find confusing or interesting. I was trying to imagine what it would be like just to sit down and talk to Hisoka about himself, and this story evolved from that. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

><p><strong>SOFTLY, DARKLY<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One: Just Breathe<strong>

_Remember to breathe. _

The young woman watched intently as a mass of strange, intimidating, and diverse characters strolled casually about her. Her eyes fluttered from one person to the next, trying to make sense of the hustle and bustle, but failing. Finally, she took another deep, anxious breath and looked down, watching the pale, faintly scarred skin on her knuckles whiten slowly as she clasped her hands tightly in her lap.

_Everything will be all right. You can do this. _

She was waiting in the common area of the 200th floor of the legendary Heaven's Arena skyscraper—a place where legendary warriors battled for fame and fortune, where business magnates bet their life's savings on the outcomes of the matches, and where the general population could share in the gore and the glory for the price of just one ticket. It was a spectacular place to find herself, but as the brightly-costumed bodies noisily shuffled past her small table in the corner of the room, she felt increasingly out of place. She took another deep breath and glanced down at the brand new press pass hanging around her neck for reassurance.

A large, stocky man with a brightly-colored Mohawk, massive belly, and wild-looking spandex costume brushed past her table a little too swiftly, nearly knocking over the cup of coffee she'd just poured. Perturbed, the novice reporter threw him a look.

"Excuse me," she muttered, her tone slightly annoyed.

The man swiveled his head around to face her, pinning her down with a scrutinizing glare. She immediately felt smaller than she already was, but she fought to hold his gaze as he looked on—probably noting her shabby, thrift-store skirt and jacket, mass of mousy, messily-braided hair, and round, determined eyes. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the man grunted dismissively and plodded away. The young woman sighed in relief, but she still felt the sharp knife of anxiety twisting painfully in her stomach.

_Just breathe, _she repeated in her head. _You can do this. You must._

She felt momentarily calmer, but then she made the mistake of glancing at the folder laid out neatly across her side of the table. On the cover was the name and picture of the man she was waiting to interview. So far, he was already five minutes late and counting. As she looked again at the photograph, the nervous ache in her gut intensified.

The man had eye-catching red hair, pale skin, and slanted, amber eyes. The severity and sharpness of his features made it seem as if they'd been carved deliberately by a blade. On his cheeks he'd carefully painted a star and a teardrop. In her opinion, he looked a bit like a crazed jester or a circus clown.

But his reputation far outweighed his outlandish appearance. According to his file, he'd rocketed to the 200th floor of Heaven's Arena in less than two months' time, and he hadn't hesitated to kill opponents. The bloody record and the erratic, bizarre behavior he displayed inside the ring only added to his intrigue, but no one knew anything about him or his past. It was as if he'd materialized from nothingness.

The woman's eyes flicked back up for a moment. She scanned the room for anyone who looked like the picture, but saw nothing but a colorful mish-mash of figures and forms. She glanced down again, examining the photo more closely this time.

The man looked wicked and dangerous. She could see the tautness of the muscle in his face and neck, as if his entire body was tightly coiled and tense, like a serpent readying to strike.

Even his name sounded like the hissing of a venomous snake.

_Hisoka._

The young woman felt her heart begin to pound more painfully against her ribcage the longer she spoke his name in her head and looked at the photo, so she tore her eyes away and glanced back down at her white-knuckled, scarred hands. She felt her tendons constrict as her thin, pale fingers tightly grasped the frayed edges of her skirt, and reaffirmed silently the reason why she was here in the first place.

_You must do this,_ she thought once again. _You have no other choice._

* * *

><p><em>A burly, dark-haired man nonchalantly smoked his cigarette and grasped her flimsy, pitiful resume in his fleshy hands, while she stared at him expectantly. He said nothing for a long time, but grazed his eyes over her, cocking an eyebrow skeptically at her plain appearance. She waited eagerly for him to speak, trying in vain to mask her desperation.<em>

"_So…" he finally murmured, sounding extremely bored. "What's your name again?"_

_It's on the top of the page you're holding, she wanted to say. But that would have been rude, unwanted, and would most likely result in her being paraded out of here with a heavy dose of shame and no job. _

"_It's Rhea, sir," she answered obediently. "Rhea Satto."_

_The man raised a bushy, black eyebrow, and then his eyes floated back down to her resume. She exhaled a small, silent sigh of relief. This pressure was almost too much for her to take, but she was willing to endure it if it meant getting a job. She'd been searching for a steady, reliable position as a journalist for—what was it? Three years now? Still, it wasn't every day a person was interviewed by the chief editor of a major news corporation. The etched name plate sitting neatly atop his desk was a small testament to his importance, and she was having trouble believing that she was sitting in front of him. _

_This was Derks Beck: Editor-in-Chief of the Republic Daily News. It was the largest news media corporation in Padokea, and he was the company's brains and brawn. Rhea only hoped that he'd be impressed with what she presented. _

"_Well," Mr. Beck finally grunted, dropping the papers in his hand to the desk and throwing inattentive, false smile her way. "I'll be honest with you, Miss Satto: You're persistent. I hear that this is the third time you've applied to the Republic Daily. But your experience is minimal and your resume is nothing to scream about. Why exactly should I hire you?"_

_Rhea felt her thumping heart begin to rapidly sink into her stomach. He wasn't impressed. She'd have to salvage this somehow—it was undoubtedly her last chance to make an impression before she was shown the door and all of her future attempts to secure a position would be ignored. _

"_Sir," she began very slowly, "I believe you pegged me exactly right—I'm extremely stubborn. I want to work here very badly, and I don't intend to stop applying until I'm hired."_

_The Editor-in-Chief cocked his head, seemingly interested. Rhea continued more quickly now, worried that her impromptu speech might outlast his attention._

"_Mr. Beck, I want you to know that I conduct myself in much the same way when I'm reporting," she said, her confidence growing as each word dropped from her lips. "I do not give up until I've found the truth. That's what I believe in, so that's what I search for. You won't find a more willing, honest, and diligent employee."_

_The man across the desk blinked slowly, and she felt her sudden confidence take an even more sudden nosedive. He looked as though he was resisting rolling his eyes. Finally, after a long pause, Mr. Beck opened his mouth again. _

"_It's not like I don't admire your determination, Miss Satto," he replied grumpily. "But what I'd really like to find is a reporter with the necessary qualifications, which you unfortunately don't have."_

_Rhea felt her sinking heart skip a beat. No—not again. She could not—__would not__—be turned away from her dream job for a third time. She was about to launch into a passionate argument when the man finished his sentiment. _

"…_however, you're all I've got right now."_

_Rhea stared disbelievingly at Mr. Beck. She could hear her pulse pounding rhythmically in her ears. "I—I don't know what you mean. No one else applied for the job?"_

_The Editor-in-Chief leaned back in his leather chair and slung his arms behind his head. "Oh, no," he said, waving a hand in the air. "Plenty have applied. But no one stays in this position for very long."_

_Rhea stared at the man uncertainly. "Why?"_

_Her interviewer's already intense expression took on a new, sharper edge. He leaned across the desk towards her and spoke in a hot, heated whisper. "Have you ever heard of Heaven's Arena, Miss Satto?"_

"_Of course, sir," she answered and nodded her head, but then paused. "Although…I don't know much about it, other than people go there to watch competitors fight one another."_

"_Then you don't know that the reporters at Republic Daily are contracted with Heaven's Arena to publish monthly interviews with those competitors?"_

"_No, but that sounds very lucrative."_

"_It certainly is, Miss Satto. The contract idea was my brainchild," Mr. Beck boasted proudly. "It drums up more consistent revenue for the Tower; gives the fighters a chance to promote themselves regularly, and most importantly, it sells our papers. It's a fantastic partnership. And ninety-nine percent of the time, it goes on without a hitch."_

_He glanced across the desk at her, pausing in his pitch. Rhea swallowed, feeling the inside of her throat slowly turning to sandpaper. _

"_And the other one percent?" she asked._

_Mr. Beck sighed heavily, a loud, wheezing sound that echoed off the bare walls of his office. "Once in a while we have an in-demand fighter who is doesn't like to be interviewed. Usually we can negotiate with them and come up with some kind of a deal. But a new competitor showed up at the tower a few months ago, and he's different. __Extremely__ different."_

_Suddenly, Rhea felt like she didn't like where this conversation was going. Her heart began to slide downward towards her stomach again, but she decided to say nothing about her growing fear._

"_Let me be clear, Miss Satto," Mr. Beck said sternly. "I would not hire you if I didn't think I had no other choice. I don't think you're right for this job. I'm not sure if anyone is. You'll be the fourth person to hold this position in two months. The first two people I hired quit after the first day. And we're talking veteran journalists here-people who have seen war and death."_

"_And the third person?" Rhea asked curiously. _

_Beck's furry black eyebrows drooped, his gaze dropped to his desk, and his expression became grim._

"_He's dead, Miss Satto."_

_Rhea's eyes widened. "What—what happened?"_

"_It's my belief that the competitor he was supposed to interview killed him," the Editor-in-Chief said solemnly. "But the police have no proof, so the guy walks, and my contract with Heaven's Arena is still binding. I have to find another person to interview him. No one will take the job…unless you do."_

_Mr. Beck glanced back up towards his interviewee. His expression was not welcoming. Rhea felt the cold chill of blood draining from her face, the pinch of her fingernails digging into her legs through the fabric of her skirt, and the heavy weight of reality settling down upon her._

"_Mr. Beck, please," she began, adopting a pleading tone. "Aren't there any other positions you might consider me for? I need this job."_

_The man shook his head. "No, Miss Satto. Until you're more qualified, it's this job or nothing. That's all I can offer you."_

_Rhea gaped at the man in disbelief. Was this the choice he was offering her? Risk her life by attempting an interview with an alleged murderer, or walk away with yet another failure under her belt? Her pulse was deafening in her ears, her heart had all but disappeared into the pit of her stomach, and she could feel the cold prickles of goose bumps beginning to crawl up her spine. She had to remind herself to inhale. Finally, she realized that she had no options at all—except one._

"_I'll take it," she breathed._

* * *

><p>Rhea sighed as she reminisced, when another person knocked against the back of her chair and sent her jolting forward and out of her daydream. This time she suppressed the urge to open her mouth to say something to the offender. Instead, she shifted uncomfortably in her chair and glanced at her watch.<p>

She frowned unpleasantly. It was already half-past two o'clock. Her interviewee was supposed to have met her here thirty minutes ago. She felt an icy finger of panic worm its way into her insides and slapped her hands onto the table, leaning over the file and scrutinizing the schedule she'd been given. The piece of paper confirmed her worst fears: This was the correct place, at the correct time. But Hisoka was nowhere to be found.

What if he didn't show? Rhea wasn't sure if she'd be relieved or not. On one hand, she'd never have to meet the suspected killer of her predecessor. On the other hand, her new boss had made it clear that if she didn't secure an interview with Hisoka and come away with some usable material within a week of her initial hiring, she'd be fired.

"Damn it," she muttered under her breath. "Where is he?"

Rhea scanned the room again, bobbing her foot under the table impatiently. She'd drunk too much coffee while waiting, and now her nerves felt as if they were being plucked and played like a harp. She sucked in air in panicked, shallow gasps and her heartbeat fluttered about in her chest like a dying butterfly. Wave after wave of worry and trepidation crashed down upon her. As her anxiety grew to a peak, the young woman felt as if she could stand up on the top of the table and scream…but instead she balled up her fist, slipped a knuckle between her lips, and bit it.

It was an odd behavior—a remnant of a childhood habit—but she didn't care who saw her. No one seemed to pay any attention to the tiny girl in the corner anyway.

Rhea wasn't surprised. Her entire life had been like that.

The feeling of flesh pinching between her teeth and the rough skin dragging across her lips was slightly calming. She breathed in through her nose slowly and was careful not to bite so hard as to cause bleeding. The skin on her hands was unusually thin and fragile, stretched taut like damp paper, and crisscrossed with pale scars. This too was a remnant of her past: A piece of her that she didn't like to remember, but that she couldn't separate from the rest. Flashes of vague memories circled Rhea's thoughts as she felt the edges of her teeth sink slowly into the meat of her finger.

_Mom used to hate it when I did this. _

The rookie journalist sighed and reluctantly removed her knuckle from her mouth, folding her hands in her lap and resigning herself to wait—however impatiently—for her interviewee to appear. But before Hisoka showed—or didn't show—she had to find some way to stave off her anxiousness. She closed her eyes, sucking the air between her lips and out her nose, in another effort to calm the biting nervousness that was twisting her up inside.

_Remember to breathe,_ Rhea told herself. _Just breathe._

This simple meditation was something she'd been practicing since she was a little girl, ever since her mother taught her that controlled, steady breathing was a much better way of suppressing the urge to scream, cry, or run than biting into her own fingers. Anxiety had always been something of a problem for her. She sucked in a breath, feeling the tension in her body as her ribs expanded, and then let it all go along with her worries in a massive exhale.

After a few more minutes of this ritual, she began to feel just a little bit better.

_That should be good for now,_ she decided.

Rhea slowly opened her eyes. When she did, she was no longer sitting alone at the table.

Sitting in front of her with his elbows propped up on the tabletop, resting his chin casually on the backs of his hands, was the man in the photograph: Wild hair, golden eyes, long nails, clown-like make-up and all. He was right in front of her.

_Hisoka._

She nearly jumped out of her seat to see him appear so suddenly. In return, he granted her a sly, serpentine smile.

"So sorry," he hissed, and the sound of his voice made Rhea's hair stand on end. "I do believe I'm late for my interview."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Additional Notes: <strong>Huzzah! A brand-spanking new story is in the works! Don't worry, there will be much more Hisoka-y goodness in the next chapter! Thanks for your readership and leave me a note below!


	2. Chapter 2: The Interview

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Hunter x Hunter; only my plot and my original characters belong to me.

**Author's Note: **I'm so pleased that my first chapter seemed to be well-liked! Thank you to all who read it, and especially to those who reviewed!

So, it's Halloween today. What better way to celebrate than to add a new chapter chock-full of Hisoka? _No_ better way, I tell you. I hope I nailed his character, for he is equal parts enigmatic and fun to write. As always, feedback from you - my readers - is immensely appreciated, so thank you! Enjoy the second installment of _Softly, Darkly_!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Two: The Interview<strong>

* * *

><p>He found it interesting that this time they had sent a woman.<p>

Hisoka mused silently to himself as he peered around the corner. He'd arrived at the interview spot early on and had selected his vantage point carefully, so that he might be able to observe and assess his target. Now he lingered lazily, flipping his deck of cards between his palms and watching the girl from across the room with predatory intent.

His sharp eyes glossed over her appearance, noting her small frame, her threadbare, painfully plain clothing, and the tension in her hands, which gripped the edge of her skirt under the table. She was a frail, delicate-looking creature. A _very _breakable toy. Not fun at all.

_Unless…_

The magician wondered if perhaps the press had begun to smarten up about their tactics. Did they send a woman on purpose? Did they want her to try to seduce an interview out of him? No. This girl wasn't made up for that part. If they had wanted that, they would have sent some tall Amazonian woman with red lips and bedroom eyes.

He smiled and glanced down at his cards, amused at the thought of something _that_ mundane turning him on.

_So then why send this girl?_

Perhaps it was a different type of seduction.

_If one wants to catch wolves,_ Hisoka surmised,_ use weakened bait._

He glanced back towards the waiting girl, scrutinizing her once more. She was so slight, so unassuming—the other people in the room bumped into her as if she wasn't there. Hisoka watched with interest as a particularly portly wrestler lumbered clumsily past and nearly knocked her drink over. She appeared annoyed and muttered something, prompting the much larger man to turn his head and glare heatedly at her. Interestingly, she didn't avert her eyes from his glower, and eventually the wrestler turned and wandered away.

Hisoka cocked an eyebrow. Maybe she wasn't so meek after all…

He felt a slight twinge of excitement as the delicious thought of killing her surfaced, but he quickly suppressed it. Even with the tiny fire of determination shining in her eyes, this girl wasn't anything special to him. She was far, _far_ too weak to pose any kind of challenge, and that made her uninteresting. If it hadn't been for his contracted obligation to meet with her and his own profound boredom, he wouldn't even be here stalking her. Besides, his palate had dulled to the taste of ordinary killing long ago.

The magician's eyes flashed momentarily away from his prey and darted from faced to face around the room. He assessed each person he glanced at, but found few of them worth more than a fleeting look, and none worthy of fighting. Hisoka felt his mouth curve into an uncharacteristic frown. His appetite had grown much more difficult to satisfy lately, and so he'd come here—Heaven's Arena—to seek out new, more formidable prey. But until a suitable fighter turned up, he had to amuse himself using other means.

That meant bad news for this inconspicuous journalist.

Hisoka cast his eyes back towards the small table in the corner and continued to observe the girl, noting her expressions and idiosyncrasies. She seemed equal parts bored, anxious, and increasingly uncomfortable in her seat. Minutes passed. Someone else knocked into her chair, but this time she said nothing. He flipped his cards, growing disinterested.

The girl glanced at her watch worriedly, and Hisoka found the will to smile again, pleased that at the very least he—or rather, his absence—was the cause of distress. He could see the little lines of frustration form on her face as she glanced anxiously about the room in search of him.

Hisoka sighed to himself and glanced up at the large, digital clock above where he stood. He was now more than thirty minutes late for his appointment to interview. He wished he could simply avoid it as he did with all other things that didn't interest him, but as a competitor at Heaven's Arena, he was contractually obligated to appear. If he didn't, he would be denied his private room—and he'd grown rather fond of his apartment.

He'd have to meet with her eventually.

The magician flipped through his cards one final time, and then turned back towards the girl. By now she had closed her eyes, fixed her hands delicately in her lap, and was practicing some sort of slow breathing exercise, leaving her unaware of her surroundings.

Hisoka felt a mischievous grin spread slowly across his face.

_Time to play…_

If he took proper care of this reporter, as he did with her three predecessors, there wouldn't be a fifth interview. Quickly and quietly, he crossed the room, slid gently into the seat in front of her, and waited for her to open her eyes.

Eventually she did, and her fearful expression was…well…

_I __love__ that look…_Hisoka thought gleefully.

To her credit, the girl didn't scream or try to run out the door at the sudden sight of him. But the fright he'd clearly given her was enough to keep him interested for the time being.

"So sorry," he told her, his eyes glinting playfully. "I do believe I'm late for my interview."

...

Every cell in her body, every shred of common sense, and every intuition Rhea had ever possessed shrieked at her to turn and run.

But she couldn't.

She was frozen in her seat, petrified, as if several strong, invisible hands were holding her there. For a tense, terrifying moment, all she could do was stare across the table at the smirking man in front of her.

He was here—Hisoka.

_Say something, _Rhea urged herself silently, but in her fear she was suddenly rendered mute.

Her guest didn't seem bothered by the silence that stretched languidly between them. He leered curiously at her, his golden, perceptive eyes lingering slowly over her face and form, absorbing and assessing every detail of her. To passersby it looked as if nothing more than two strangers staring across the table at one another, but to Rhea every flick of Hisoka's eyes felt like someone was dragging a rake over her skin. She cringed uncomfortably against the intensity of his gaze, until she finally found the volition to say something.

"Excuse me…I mean, I'm sorry," she said, and then immediately corrected herself. Then she attempted a smile and added: "You frightened me."

One of Hisoka's sharply arched eyebrows lifted in amusement, and from his lips escaped a small, strange little sigh, but he said nothing more. Rhea swallowed and nodded, attempting to gather her scattered thoughts. Her mouth was suddenly very dry. She sat up a little straighter, but her posture didn't lend her any more confidence.

"I'm Rhea Satto, from the Republic Daily," she finally forced out. "I'm glad to finally meet with you."

_What a terrible lie,_ she thought despondently.

Hisoka's eyes narrowed slightly, but his smile was unwavering. "Charmed," he purred.

Rhea went on, feeling as if she was numbly reading from a script. She was a robot, but the knife of panic still twisted in her gut. "I'm here to speak with you in regards to your recent history here at Heaven's Arena," she explained. "Um—it seems you've caused quite a sensation."

Hisoka had no reaction this time; he simply continued staring at her with a piercing glare, pinning her to her seat like an insect on display. She wished she would look away for just a second, blink, _something_ to give her relief from the scrutiny of his gaze. But the Heaven's Arena combatant didn't avert his eyes. Finally, Rhea's hands shakily lifted from her lap and nervously fluttered about the tabletop, pushing aside her files and finally reaching for her purse. She foraged around in it a moment before pulling out a digital voice recorder.

"I'd like to ask you some questions about yourself," she said hurriedly as she placed the recorder on the table, pressed the 'record' button, and stuffed her hands under the table again. "Shall we begin?"

The sly smile on Hisoka's face creased into something slightly more spirited, and he slowly drew on hand out from under his chin, his pointer finger extended. Rhea's eyes darted from his face to his hand and back again, her breath hitched in her throat. She continued to watch as he gracefully traced a small circle into the air and then dropped his hand, his long-nailed fingertip gently pressing the 'stop' button on the recorder.

Rhea's lips parted in surprise, and her eyes shot back up to meet his, questions already beginning to form on the surface of her tongue. But before she could speak a word, Hisoka raised his palm, halting her thoughts right there.

"First, let me ask _you_ a question," he told her, his voice thin and smooth like silk. "If you can answer correctly, I'll agree to an interview. Do you accept?"

Rhea was caught off guard by the strange request, and she found her gaze drifting downward and concentrating on surface of the table. The magician waited patiently while Rhea sat, her mind caught in a web of indecision and her face crinkled into puzzled frown. She glanced back towards at Hisoka every so often, half-afraid that he might slip away as suddenly and silently has he had appeared. But there he stayed, tilting his head to one side, his eyes narrowing curiously. The painful, twisting anxiety throbbed in her stomach, and she felt slightly sick.

What would Hisoka ask her? More importantly, why was he playing this-this _game_? He had only just met her. Rhea could only surmise that he was trying to test her in some way. Maybe this was amusing for him. Her eyes glanced towards him once more as she struggled with her thoughts for another tense moment, and his expression told her that her guess was correct.

For the second time in two days, Rhea found herself frightened, intimidated, and being asked to make an impossible decision.

_Just breathe, _she reminded herself. Finally, her eyes flickered back up to Hisoka's waiting gaze.

"All right," she conceded, although with great reluctance.

Hisoka's sly smile grew slightly wider.

"Very well," he said, and this time his voice was full of mischief.

His pale hand fluttered suddenly, and a playing card mysteriously appeared in his fingers with a sharp flick. Rhea's nerves betrayed her at the sound, and she jolted ever-so-slightly in her seat in surprise at the flicker of movement. The magician's yellow eyes flashed teasingly as he flipped the card back and forth expertly between each of his digits. Rhea watched with a widened gaze, both mesmerized and baffled by his trick.

"One question, and only one correct answer," Hisoka said, and his flipping card abruptly ceased its dance. "Here it is: 'If you have me, you don't share me. If you share me, you don't have me. What am I?'"

Rhea stared at him, both her eyes and the space inside her head blank. Her mind grasped for any kind of answer that would make sense. Seconds crept by with agonizing sluggishness, and she began to feel her heartbeat turn to thunder in her chest. What kind of question was that? A riddle? How on earth was she able to muster a reply to such a vague, confounding prompt? Her breathing quickened and her pulse pounded in her skull. But there was nothing—not even a foggy semblance of a proper response—that materialized in her head.

_What do I do? _she thought, the panicky feeling in her chest tightening into a knot. She fought another wild urge to shove a knuckle into her mouth and clamp down on it. _I have nothing!_

Her frantic eyes flicked up towards Hisoka. He was observing her reaction intently, and clearly enjoying her distress.

"Do you give up?" he asked, chuckling amusedly.

Rhea couldn't bring herself to admit defeat. Her growing sense of panic had paralyzed her. She was silent, but her lack of speech spoke loudly enough for Hisoka. His predacious grin widened in triumph.

"The answer," he revealed softly, as if someone might be listening, "is a _secret_."

The card in his hand did another acrobatic flip along the tops of his fingers, before he snapped them and it vanished in a little puff of smoke. Once again, Rhea blinked disbelievingly at him, not only at the magic he appeared to perform but at his enigmatic answer to the riddle.

_If you have me, don't share me. If you share me, you don't have me…_she mulled over in her head. _Of course…a secret! Why didn't I—_

"You see, secrets are my specialty," Hisoka's voice interrupted her thoughts, and his tone had become slightly more serious. "I don't intend to share them without getting something worthwhile in return."

The young journalist saw a minuscule chance to salvage the interview, and she jumped at it with abandon. "Then perhaps we can strike a deal," she suggested urgently.

"Deal?" the magician queried, his sharp eyebrows rising in surprise. He seemed mildly interested.

Rhea's heart shuddered as she spoke her next words. "If it's what you want, I can offer you a fair trade: My secrets for yours. Something for something."

The expression on Hisoka's painted face shifted slightly. Slowly, he slid his arms from atop the table and leaned back against his chair, but his scrutinizing eyes were still firmly anchored upon the young woman in front of him. It appeared that he hadn't expected such an offer and that he might be considering it. Rhea fidgeted anxiously in her seat while waiting for an answer. Her hands contorted, their knuckles paling rapidly, and her fingernails began to dig through the cloth of her skirt. They bit sharply into the skin beneath the fabric, and the tiny pinch of pain kept her rooted in the present, despite her spiraling anxiety. Finally, after a very tense few minutes, Hisoka leaned forward again, a severe expression etched onto his face.

"How admirable of you," he remarked coolly. "But I'm afraid that nothing you could offer would interest me."

His words cut into Rhea like the edge of a knife, and yet the magician didn't seem to notice how she flinched. He began to rise from his seat, but he granted her one last dismissive glance.

"You've lost your wager, so I'll be taking my leave now."

Rhea felt the heat of tears blossom behind her eyes as he began to turn away.

_No—no, no, no—it can't end like this!_ She fought off another urge to scream. _I can't go back to having nothing-being nothing! I can't! _

"But—please!" she cried desperately, grasping at threads. "You're contracted to speak with me! I need _something_ to publish!"

Hisoka's eyes flickered back in her direction, and for the first time, he regarded her without a trace of playfulness in his eyes. A sudden darkness swirled to life and seeped across the table towards the young woman. It drenched her in an unshakable, indescribable feeling of dread. This was different than the typical fear: It was a very real, physical reaction to something undeniably evil that was emanating from Hisoka, like dozens of needles pricking her skin. Rhea's very breath was stolen from her lungs, her insides twisted painfully, and her skin itched as if it was trying to crawl off of her very bones to get away from him.

However, the strange sensation only lasted a few seconds, and then Hisoka broke his gaze and his expression returned to normal. The air between them cleared, and Rhea gasped as she was finally able to breathe again.

_What the hell did he just do to me?_ she thought as she looked hesitantly up at him.

Hisoka's eyes glossed over her one more time. He looked-what was that expression? She blinked hesitantly up at him for a moment before deciding on an emotion: Dissatisfied.

"My contract states that I must sit for an interview, but it doesn't specify that I must speak. You understand," he told her. His slanted, golden eyes looked slightly vacant, as if his mind had wandered somewhere else. "I have nothing more to say to you."

The magician pivoted and began to saunter off. Rhea watched his back, the heat behind her eyes welling up and finally forming hot tears. They spilled onto her cheeks freely, with nothing left to hold them back. The young reporter dipped her head in misery, hiding her face and winding her fingers into her hair. Anger, self-loathing, and an overwhelming sense of failure crashed down on her like a massive wave.

_I failed, _she realized. _I've failed, I've failed, I've failed…_

The hateful mantra continued inside her head. But as she battled with her turbulent thoughts, Rhea didn't realize that Hisoka had stopped and turned to glance over his shoulder at her one final time.

…

Hisoka stared back towards the girl, a little repulsed by her weakened mental state. But he supposed he wasn't completed displeased. When he couldn't get off on hurting people physically, damaging their emotions was sometimes enough to satisfy him. But it was nothing more than a cheap, temporary thrill, nowhere near as profound as tearing the flesh from someone's bones or slicing open their necks with a Nen-enhanced card.

Still, the young woman's reaction to his refusal was as intriguing as it was pitiful—just enough to get him to pause in his withdrawal and observe her a few moments longer. Now as he witnessed the naïve journalist sink into her seat and give in to despair, he wondered why she seemed so defeated. What exactly did this interview mean to her, that it left her so despondent when he refused?

_Perhaps…_he began, but then he brushed the intermittent thought away.

A moment later the girl's head lifted, and she brushed the strands of hair from her face. There were tears glittering in the corners of her eyes. She hastily wiped the offending droplets from her lashes before her eyes fluttered up and she noticed him still standing there. She gasped in surprise—a pleasurably sharp little intake of breath—and scowled back at him. There was no more fire of determination in her eyes, but instead a desperation that aroused images within Hisoka's mind of an injured animal caught in a trap. He was suddenly overwhelmed with the intense desire—no, the _need_—to kill her: Not because she was particularly interesting, not because he thought he'd enjoy it, and most certainly not because she was worthy of the beautiful death he could give her—but because she was simply _pathetic_. So weak, so unworthy…she didn't deserve the life she had.

The magician tried to shake the vicious compulsion off, but it was even stronger than the urge he'd suppressed moments ago when he'd been leaving the table. He felt his killing aura begin to seep out of his skin again and creep across the floor towards the girl. A single playing card flicked into existence between his fingers.

Then he paused.

_No…_ he chided to himself as his eyes darted around the room. _Too many others, too much risk…for not enough reward._

With an unhappy, exacerbated sigh, Hisoka fluttered his fingers, and the card in his hand vanished. His killing aura gradually dissipated and he was left with another heavy feeling of dissatisfaction. But he knew that if he succumbed to his homicidal urges here, there would be several witnesses and dire complications. Many more would have to die—which he didn't mind, of course—but he would be forced to leave and would be unable to return to Heaven's Arena to compete or reside in his apartment. Furthermore, he'd be regressing back into a common murderer—one who preyed on those significantly weaker than him, without reason or provocation—a person he'd now come to despise.

Hisoka's eyes flickered back towards the woeful girl. She had seemingly accepted her sad fate, for her head had sunk low again. Her pale hands were slowly gathering up the materials left abandoned on the tabletop, and her eyes were staring morosely into the distance.

_Very well,_ he resolved silently to himself.

His assessment of her was complete, his mind made up. This wretched young creature didn't deserve the pitiful existence she had, but she didn't deserve his time either. He'd figured out another way to deal with her kind, through discreet and indirect means. Slowly and deliberately, Hisoka turned back to face her.

"One more thing," he called softly in her direction.

The sorrowful girl's head shot back up, her wide eyes expectant and still wet around the edges.

"Yes?" she replied, her voice as thin and frail as the rest of her.

Hisoka's serpentine smile returned, cutting a wide, sickle-shaped line across his painted face. He held up one graceful finger and continued: "If you are indeed so eager to know more about me, then you'll seek out a man named Li Wenxin, in the Tanzo District."

The journalist's eyes narrowed in confusion and suspicion. She began to open her mouth to inquire more, but the magician shot her another bloodthirsty look that halted her tongue.

"That is all, Rhea Satto," he declared, with one final, knowing grin. "Goodbye."

Then he turned and went. He did not look back.

…

Rhea sat breathlessly in her chair, staring after Hisoka as he weaved his way through the crowd like a snake until he disappeared. Only after her lungs began to ache did she remember that she had to inhale. When she finally sucked in a gulp of precious air, she practically choked on it and clutched a hand to her chest as though she'd been drowning in her fear.

The young woman's eyes fluttered up towards the ceiling as she tried to stave off her intense anxiety. She registered the frantic thumping of her heartbeat beneath her callused fingers, and tightly closed her eyes, willing herself not to scream aloud.

_Just breath,_ she urged herself again. _Just keep breathing._

This time, the ritual her mother had taught her did not help. The slow knife of unease was still in her gut, twisting painfully, even though her guest had gone. Her nerves had been so tightly strung and so expertly plucked by Hisoka's every word and gesture that she felt as though her sanity was beginning to unravel. Rhea felt grateful just to be alive—but that was not all.

The magician had given her a tiny nugget of hope: A place and a name where she might seek out the information she needed.

_Li Wenxin,_ she repeated in her head so she would not forget. _Tanzo District._

Her spirits began to revive. She hadn't gotten an interview, but she might be able to squeeze information from this other person—_if_ she could find him. Today wasn't a total failure, and neither was she.

However, despite this small semblance of victory, Rhea's nerves were still thoroughly frayed. The situation had been too intense; her breathing exercises simply weren't helping calm her…so she finally relinquished herself to a much stronger, older compulsion. Again, the young woman purposefully balled up her fist and slipped a single, scarred knuckle between her teeth.

Pain was a welcome distraction to her distress, so this time she bit down _hard_.

And this time the blood flowed freely.

* * *

><p><strong>Additional Author's Notes: <strong>Whoop whoop! Another chapter done! You're all lucky: I'm a huge fan of cliffhangers, and I usually prefer to end chapters with them (I humbly submit the first chapter of this story as proof), but this time it wound up that I wrote something a little less agonizing for my readers. You're welcome! Well, once more, thank you ever so much for your readership. I'm grateful for each and every one of you. My additional thanks and reviewer responses to your reviews are below, and don't forget to leave me another note this chapter! Thanks again!

...

**For adding **_**Softly, Darkly**_** to their faves, thank you to: **ClockworkShadowX, FinalFlashX (You two are the definition of awesome), Minnk, ParadoxMagic, and hyosung.

...

**For adding Softly, Darkly to their alerts, thank you to: **ClockworkShadowX, FinalFlashX, Con Weird, Minnk, ParadoxMagic, Thehisokalover, a DUMB girl WITH a COMPUTER, serianri, and snik25.

...

**Reviewer Responses:**

nathylie: Thank you for the review. I'm glad you thought the first chapter was great and I assume when you said "good history" you mean the history I built around my main character, Rhea. Correct me if I'm wrong. But thank you anyway! I'll definitely keep it up!

Thehisokalover: Thanks for your compliments! As for updating...well, I am a very busy woman and sometimes I struggle with updating in a timely manner because of those pesky things called a "job" and "responsibilities." The good news, however, is that I'm currently writing the fourth chapter of this story, so I'm a little ahead of myself. But to stay ahead, I'm probably not going to update any more than once biweekly at the most, once monthly at the least. Thanks again for your review!

Flash: Tsk, tsk, tardy reviewer. Just kidding. Thanks for your detailed review. I'm glad you enjoyed my writing style and that you feel that everything, as you said, "flows together." I'm actually super impressed at your own perceptiveness-I think when you wrote about Rhea's character you picked out things about her that I'd obviously written into her mannerisms, thoughts, and speech, but hadn't had a conscious thought about yet. For example, the fact that her resume showed just how stubborn and fixated she is, perhaps even to the point of unhealthiness. We've already discussed the constructive criticism you offered me, so I won't repeat myself here, but I'm sure you were pleased to see that the word "purred" was used in this chapter to describe Hisoka's speech. The sheer depth of attention you've given to this single chapter is extraordinary and admirable. I couldn't be more grateful. I'll definitely continue to strive to keep this story worthy of your readership. Thank you so much!

a DUMB girl WITH a COMPUTER: Thanks for the review! Hm...you're name is...interesting...but I'm sure you're not dumb because-hey-you like my story, haha! I hope you enjoyed this installment of the story as much as you did the last! I'll try and update regularly, but I think the most I"ll be able to muster is once every two weeks. Please be patient, and thanks again!

serianri: Yes, Hisoka is "da bomb!" Thank you for your kind words. I hope you are continuously impressed by my story-telling skills as well as my use of imagery and diction. Also, thank you for mentioning diction. It seems that in some circles of this site, you'd be hard-pressed to find anyone who understand what that term means, so I appreciate a knowledgeable reviewer such as yourself. I hope that this chapter got you just as excited for the next portion of the story as the last did! Thanks again!

ParadoxMagic: Wish granted! Thanks for the review, and by the way...cool user name! I'll update as soon as I'm able, but something due to my work schedule I'm not going to have time to write ahead like I'd want to. So please expect updates either every other week, or perhaps once monthly. Thanks again for your feedback!

xxhappiness: Thank you so much for your review; I'm glad you thought my story was original! I'm working really hard on making it different from other Hisoka x OC fics out there - and I pride myself on creativity, so your kind words really helped to amp me up for writing future chapters! Thanks again!

Guest 1: Yup, as I explained above, I LOVE cliffhangers. I hope it wasn't too mean of me to do that and then make you wait...as mentioned above, this chapter has an ending with slightly more closure at it's conclusion. Updates however, will be only posted every other week or possibly every month - and that's only if my schedule at work doesn't interfere or completely exhaust me. Feedback does help to instill more inspiration in me though, so keep the reviews coming! Thanks again!

Guest 2: Thank you for your kind words! I'm glad you thought my story was, as you said, "nice". I'll try to update as often as possible, but I won't post a new chapter more often than every two weeks because otherwise I'll run out of steam. Currently, I'm two chapters ahead with my writing, so I'll try my hardest to keep up, but life can be unpredictable! Here's to hoping I can keep the momentum going, haha! Thanks ever so much for being my first reviewer!


	3. Chapter 3: The Killing Jar

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Hunter x Hunter; only my plot and my original characters belong to me.

**Author's Note: **If you know Hisoka, you know that he doesn't need to be immediately present to have a profound influence on the plot and the rest of the characters. Case and point: This chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three: The Killing Jar<strong>

* * *

><p>Not far from the towering marvel that was Heaven's Arena, nestled tightly in an ancient, forgotten part of the city, was the Tanzo District. Here, the shimmering skyscrapers of the modern metropolis sliced like knives through the patches of grey sky that hung over the arched, black tar roof tops, taut laundry lines, and stagnant air. On rainy days such as this one, shadows stretched past their boundaries, seemingly enveloping the entire area in a fog of darkness. People here were pallid and weary from lack of sunlight; they fluttered to and fro like moths at twilight, only emerging briefly before vanishing again through a doorway or down a narrow alley. Those that wandered in from the outside were regarded with suspicion, as Rhea quickly discovered when she arrived and began searching for someone named Li Wenxin.<p>

The novice reporter had been searching ceaselessly for the man Hisoka had mentioned for two days, to no avail. An internet search had brought up no information. There was no man registered under that name at any of the city's public facilities. She was beginning to wonder if the magician had sent her after a person that didn't exist.

Still, Rhea absolutely refused to give up.

The young woman shuddered against the thin fabric of her coat as she hopped over puddles and navigated the narrow corridors and crooked, sagging structures in search of someone who would speak to her. Chilled, fresh rain water dotted droplets onto her hair, slipped down her neck, and seeped into the collar of her shirt. She shivered, plunged her hands deep into her pockets, and tried to keep from digging her nails too deeply into the flesh of her palms. The cold of the morning sunk straight through her skin and settled into her bones. Her hands hurt - ever since the interview with Hisoka, she hadn't been able to contain her stress through simple breathing exercises. Only biting her knuckles and bleeding could alleviate the anxiety that crept up on her in her most doubtful moments.

_Damn him,_ she thought bitterly. A flash of Hisoka's painted face emerged from the swirling maelstrom of thoughts inside her head. _If this is all a trick, I swear..._

The young woman paused in her thought. She'd swear, all right...but what could she _do_? Hisoka was by all accounts an intensely dangerous person. If her quest to find Li Wenxin didn't pan out, what would her next move be? Rhea's mind pondered the death of her predecessor - the man that her boss, Derks Beck, said Hisoka had likely killed. After having met the man herself, she no longer doubted the possibility, and attempting to reconnect with the clownish Heaven's Arena combatant could spell out a similar fate for her. She still vividly remembered the sinking, creeping feeling that had struck her when Hisoka had gazed sharply back at her just before leaving the interview two days ago. His parting words bounced around in the back of her skull even now, haunting her: "I'm afraid that nothing you could offer would interest me."

The memory made her shudder in fear, but it also ignited a small flicker of anger within her, and she frowned against the mist of rain.

How dare he?

Hisoka was obviously perceptive, extremely frightening, and almost certainly deadly, but that didn't make him fit to judge her and determine her worth as an individual. No one had that right. Rhea felt her throat tighten as the memory of his words played over and over in her head like a reel of film. Hisoka didn't _know_ her. He knew nothing of her personal life, her personality...or her past.

Her past. The young woman halted mid-step, her foot plunging into a deep puddle. She could feel the cold oozing into her second-hand boots. A slinking anxiety crept into her stomach, and she suddenly felt the intense urge to bite one of her knuckles again as a distraction. But she stopped herself.

_Don't think about it, _she finally concluded. _Focus. Breathe. _

Rhea quickly brushed away the unpleasant thoughts that clouded her mind from today's purpose, but she mused on the Heaven's Arena competitor's pointed words for one last moment. The important thing to remember was that Hisoka couldn't possibly _know_ how interesting or uninteresting she was.

But that didn't make his remark hurt any less.

What he had told her was intentionally cruel, but it only added to Rhea's fiery determination to finish the job - and prove him wrong.

She continued to inwardly curse the magician as she walked and wandered, occasionally cornering and questioning the wide-eyed locals when they dared to step out of the darkness and into the streets. She was proud that her determination overtook her nervousness. It made her feel accomplished, and it turned out to be doubly rewarding: Though it took her over two hours and cost her quite a bit of money - she discovered early on that cash made even the most wary citizen's tongue a little looser - she was finally able to gather enough information to piece together an address.

Not long after that, Rhea was standing in front of the door that she strongly suspected belonged to Li Wenxin. If it was his home, it was not very well kept. The door's color must have been red at one point in it's history, but time and neglect had chipped off nearly every trace of color until only a few flakes survived. One small, dusty window framed with dingy curtains looked out into the street. The journalist noted the still-muddy footprints on the front steps. Whoever lived here had been out and about this morning, but had returned recently. Rhea only hoped that person was Li Wenxin - and that he was willing to speak with her about Hisoka. The sinister smile of the Heaven's Arena competitor once again flickered in her head. Goosebumps prickled her skin, but this time not because of the cold. After a moment of hesitation, she reached out a hand and gently rapped on the door. And waited.

No answer.

Rhea felt another unpleasant grimace crease her face. A tightly bound, barbed ball of anxiety began to form inside her stomach. She reached forward and knocked again, her pale, scabby knuckles rapping on the worn wood.

Another minute passed, with no response. Her heart began to flutter.

_One last knock,_ she decided.

The young woman rapped a little louder this time, and from the corner of her eye she registered a tiny flicker of movement from the inside of the home. One of the threadbare curtains on the inside of the window swayed to the side ever so slightly. Rhea thought she caught a glimpse of a hand retreating back into the darkness inside, but then the fabric fell flat and still.

Someone _was_ inside. Her heartbeat pounded like drums against her ribcage. The prickly feeling of panic crept up her throat.

_Please, please...let it be him..._she prayed silently. _Let him be willing to tell me something...anything…_

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of waiting, Rhea heard the satisfying click of a lock unlatching from the inside, and the door swung open slowly. A man's head peeked out and peered at her. He wore large, owl-eyed glasses, an unflattering bowl-cut, and a five o'clock shadow. His dark, shadowy eyes surveyed the young woman in front of him.

"Yes?" he asked warily, flicking his gaze up to meet hers.

Rhea felt an invisible hand grip her throat, threatening to silence her before she had the chance to speak. She forced the words out, feeling unwelcome and awkward.

"A-are you Li Wenxin?" she queried hopefully.

The man blinked rapidly when she spoke the name. "Uh, that's me," he remarked, seemingly surprised. Then, after a hesitant moment, his voice adopted an overtly friendly tone. "Would you like to come in?"

Rhea's pulse quickened again. She was hoping to convince the man to come with her to a public place to meet, but her enormous sense of excitement quickly drowned out her usual sense of cautiousness. This _was_ the man - the one Hisoka had sent her to find. She had done it, and she wasn't about to ruin her chances now by demanding that the man leave to another location. He was obviously shy, and he might refuse. The journalist had to do whatever it took to get him to reveal something - _anything_ - about the mysterious magician.

"Of course," she answered, a genuinely grateful smile gracing her features. "Thank you so much."

The man stepped back and the door swung wider, allowing the young woman entrance into a dimly lit, musty corridor. It looked a little like her own tiny apartment, but obviously in a different part of the city, and nowhere near as clean. There seemed to be a coating of dust that clung to everything, and she could see the tiny, floating specks circling in the air through the dingy, grey light coming through the window. She was a little repulsed by the state of the place, but not surprised. Any acquaintance of Hisoka's had to be an offbeat, strange character - of that much she was certain. After another moment of quick observation, Rhea turned back towards her host, feeling a bit of relief beginning to leak into her veins.

"I must admit, Mr. Wenxin, you are a hard man to find," she confessed with a sigh. "I spent the last two days trying to track you down."

The bespectacled man watched her closely as he shut the door and locked it once more with a loud "click." His eyes were huge behind his thick glasses, and his pupils dark. No light seemed to pierce them. She noticed that he didn't look her directly in the eye.

"And you are?" he inquired expectantly, ignoring her earlier remark.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she hastily apologized. "I'm Rhea Satto, from the _Republic Daily_. I was hoping to speak to you."

Rhea produced her three-days-old press pass from her purse and held it out to Wenxin. He took it in both hands and examined it closely, turning it this way and that, as if he were looking for some kind of hidden message on the card. The reporter waited patiently, taking in the rest of her host: Wenxin was small for a man, but beneath the folds of his clothes Rhea could see small, sinewy muscles that at the very least gave the illusion of strength. He had clearly been in the middle of eating something when she had knocked - his plain white shirt was stained with a few blobs of something yellowish-orange. He had on wrinkled pajama pants with no shoes. The man looked just as unkempt as his house. When he noticed her watching him he quickly thrust the press pass back into her waiting palm.

"What does a big-shot newspaper like the _Republic Daily_ want to speak to me about?" he asked, his expression bashful, his eyes darting to and fro. "I'm not in trouble, am I?"

Rhea attempted a lighthearted laugh. "A competitor at Heaven's Arena sent me to find you." She hesitated slightly before adding: "He said that you might be willing to tell me about him."

"Heaven's Arena?" Wenxin clarified, scratching his head and shifting his feet nervously. "Doesn't ring a bell…"

Rhea's smile vanished and was replaced with a frown. Surely if this man knew Hisoka, he knew about Heaven's Arena as well? It was the most recognizable landmark in the city, and famous the world over.

"A man called Hisoka gave me your name," she explained, doubtfulness beginning to grow inside her head. "You...you do you know him, don't you?"

The man pursed his lips in thought, and suddenly Rhea's hopes took a nose dive. What if Wenxin didn't know Hisoka at all? What if it was all a ruse - a cruel trick to waste her time? Another flare of heated anger stirred within her chest at the thought, but she waited eagerly for her host's response.

"Hm…" he finally murmured, nodding. "I feel like I _might _have heard the name before. Yes, why don't you come into my study and I can tell you what I know?"

Rhea's hopes swept back up into her heart. "Oh, thank you," she gushed, enormously relieved. "I'd love that."

Wenxin ushered her down the dusty corridor, past the single, dirty window, and into a small, square, and windowless room. The only pieces of furniture were a wooden desk and chair, propped up in the corner and piled high with papers and other various objects. But when her host reached over and flicked the light switch, a bright bulb in the ceiling suddenly illuminated the space from corner to corner with a golden glow. Rhea gasped in awe at the sight that greeted her.

Nearly every square inch of the walls were absolutely covered with various frames and shadowboxes - and within each one a brightly-colored butterfly was expertly posed and pinned. Unlike the rest of the apartment, each of the frames was completely free of dust or dirt, so the colors shown beautifully. Rhea gawked at the splendid sight - there were hundreds of the luminous little creatures adorning the tiny space. She paused in the center of the room and turned around and around again, gazing at each insect inside its gold, beveled frame. It was gorgeous.

"My collection," Wenxin explained, smiling fondly, and looking at her directly for the first time. "It's my pride and joy."

Rhea smiled back at him, delighted. "They're wonderful. Did you catch them all yourself?"

"Yes…I adore them. They are so small and so frail. They're like nature's most delicate little jewels," he explained, his eyes darting away for a moment, but then settling back on her again.

He seemed to be growing more comfortable with her presence. Rhea's hope shone even brighter than the butterflies on the walls. Perhaps, if she engaged him in conversation about his interests now, he'd be more willing to discuss more about Hisoka later.

_Something for something._

And so, the novice reporter allowed her eyes to wander freely and explore the massive collection. She marveled until she caught sight of a small, bright pink and red variety of butterfly in a frame that hung not on the wall, but which sat on the desk in the corner, next to the piles of papers. She stepped closer, glancing back towards Wenxin as she did. He nodded, granting silent permission for her to gently pick up the frame and examine the specimen more closely.

"That's a Hemotropic Butterfly," he told her, stepping nearer from behind. "They're my favorite."

Rhea was fascinated. "Really? Why?"

"They're exceptionally rare—they only live on a few sub-tropical islands." Wenxin paused for a moment before adding: "And they're attracted to the scent of blood, so they're very unique as well. No other species is like them."

Rhea balanced the frame that held the butterfly gently between her palms. The little creature was clearly dead, but it was preserved so well that it seemed it might burst back to life at any second and flutter off the glass into the air.

"They are lovely," she exclaimed, carefully setting the Hemotropic Butterfly back down on the desk and stepping away to look closer at several other varieties on the opposite wall. Wenxin's owl-like eyes alertly watched her every move, but he continued to smile as she admired his collection.

"How do you catch them all?" Rhea asked inquisitively.

Wenxin's voice floated in from behind her. "Most of the time I try to only collect the ones that have already died..." His voice trailed off momentarily, but after a short silence, he continued. "But every once in a while I find a live specimen that is so delicate…_so_ beautiful …and I simply _cannot_ stop myself."

Rhea hesitated with her next question, but she was too curious not to ask.

"So if you catch them alive…how…how do you kill them?"

"I use something called a killing jar – a glass jar with chemical-soaked cloth inside it. The chemicals have a sweet smell to relax the insects inside, but once there, they asphyxiate."

Rhea listened and felt twinge of pity for the numerous butterflies that decorated the room.. "I…" she began. "...I guess that's humane. It doesn't hurt the butterflies, does it?"

She heard one of the desk drawers open and close, and Wenxin s footsteps grow closer. "No, they don't feel a thing," he answered calmly.

Rhea nodded in approval, reaching up her fingers to trace the outline of a particularly large butterfly's graceful, metallic blue wings. "That's good, I suppose."

She took a breath and became suddenly aware of a sudden sweetness that permeated the air. It was almost too sweet - the scent felt as though it it stuck to the inside of her nose and mouth when she inhaled, like sour, sticky candy. Wenxin's footfalls paused behind her, and when he spoke again, his voice had changed.

It was no longer warm and friendly. It sounded cold, unfeeling - and _evil_.

"I'm glad you think so," he whispered, so close she could feel his breath on her ear.

Suddenly, Rhea realized that she'd made a colossal mistake.

She tried to whirl around and face Wenxin, but his snake-like hand reached from behind and clamped a white, wet cloth over her mouth. The cloth reeked of that sour and sickly smell Rhea had detected earlier. It made her suddenly woozy, and nausea bubbled to life in her stomach as she struggled to free herself and take a breath. But Wenxin, despite his size, was stronger than he appeared. His hand over her face stayed put, while his other reached around, gripped her wrists, and twisted her arms painfully behind her back. Rhea attempted to scream, but the sound was muffled by the moistened cloth covering her lips. She was forced to take in a breath, filling her lungs with the poison. She watched with wide, horrified eyes as the chemical took effect and the colorful wall full of butterfly carcasses suddenly came to life. Their bright wings began to flutter wildly, colors shifting, shapes distorting - she was hallucinating, asphyxiating, choking.

A red-hot knife of realization and terror stabbed into her.

_Just like the butterflies.._.she realized.

Her panic leaping to exponential levels, Rhea frantically attempted again to tear herself from Wenxin's grasp. She only managed to free one arm. Her vision grew more blurry with every breath, but she waved her free hand wildly in search of something - anything - that she could use to liberate herself from the clutches of her attacker. Her fingers closed around nothing but air. She felt another terrified scream rise in her throat, but once again the sound was stymied by the cloth closed around her lips. Wenxin grunted excitedly as she fought him, then pushed her forward and rammed her body into the side of the desk, using his weight to press her down while keeping the poison cloth clamped on her face. Rhea's vision grew darker still and her limbs began to feel as if they were filled with lead. The young woman's frail body sank down under Wenxin's own, pinning her there.

There seemed to be no chance of escape. Rhea was helpless, weakened, and moaning in anguish. She felt her captor's chest shudder against her back as he laughed at her pitiful attempts to cry out for help.

"Now, now..." he chuckled calmly. "What an interesting day this has turned out to be!"

The man paused, as if waiting for response from his victim, but Rhea closed up her mouth and refused to breath in any more of the poison. She made no sound and was still, fighting the frantic emotions that were blooming to life inside her. She wouldn't breathe - no, she couldn't breathe. She was trapped.

Wenxin continued gleefully. "I'm not sure who this Hisoka person is, but whoever he is, I'll have to thank him if I ever actually meet him. Usually I have to go out hunting to find my next girl, but his is the first time one of them has come to me willingly! You must be pretty surprised."

Rhea listened, but did not move. So Wenxin never knew Hisoka? Then her initial suspicions were correct. She cursed the magician's name again, her panic intensified, and her lungs burned, thirsty for oxygen, but she did not take a breath.

"You'll make a wonderful addition to my _other_ collection," her attacker went on, relishing each moment now that he believed he had his victim under control. "Don't worry - I'll show it to you before...well, maybe I shouldn't tell you what happens after that. You'll struggle even more."

Rhea tried not the whimper in fear as Wenxin leaned forward, pressing his body against hers and whispering suggestively into her ear.

"If you're a good girl, I'll make it quick - I promise. You won't feel much, and then you'll be a part of my collection: Beautiful forever, just like my butterflies here," he explained with a sinister smile. "But if you're bad…"

She couldn't hold it in any longer - her fears were too all-consuming, too overwhelming. Another scream tore itself out of girl's throat and was muffled by the chemical-soaked cloth. Hot tears welled behind her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks. Wenxin's weight and the pressure building inside her lungs forced the young, helpless woman to take several, quick and shallow breaths, poisoning her body with another dose of chemical fumes. Rhea understood now; her attacker had made his intentions all too clear.

_He's a killer, _she realized, even more horrified than before. _Hisoka sent me to a murderer. On. Purpose._

The thought, as ridiculous and morbid as it was, was undeniable - and as she understood this, Rhea felt something inside of her break. Wenxin might be intending to kill her, and her own naivety had brought her here, but this entire terrifying mess was _Hisoka's_ doing.

The thought consumed her. It chewed her up from the inside, and suddenly, a blazing torrent of rage burst from some unknown part of herself and flooded Rhea's veins. It filled her blood with tiny flecks of fire and metal, replacing her sense of helplessness and every other weak emotion that was tormenting her. Panic crumbled in the face of her anger, and even as her would-be killer stood breathing heavily over her, she swore a silent vow to herself.

_I will __not__ die here._

Rhea's free hand, which had settled limply at her side, slowly began to crawl across the wooden surface of the desk. Her numbed fingers stretched out like antennae, blindly feeling for anything that could be used as a tool to free herself. Eventually her fingers found a square, solid object - the frame encasing the Hemotropic Butterfly specimen that Wenxin had shown her just moments before. She wound her digits around it tightly, concentrating all the strength she had left into her arm, willing it to move. Her attacker only had a second to notice what she was doing.

"Hey-" he grunted angrily, before Rhea swung back her arm and the frame smacked him over the head with a solid crack.

She heard the sharp tinkling sound of breaking glass scattering across the floor, and felt the repulsive weight of Wenxin's body slid off her small frame. The hand that held the poison-soaked cloth to her mouth released it's hold on her face as her attacker groaned and fell to the ground with a thud. Rhea tried to lift herself off the surface of the desk, but the chemical had dulled her senses. Her limbs felt like phantoms of themselves, her was body a concrete block, and her vision swam in front of her. With much effort, she managed to rise up off the desk's surface and lean her body against the nearest wall, breathing hard from her exertion. In front of her, Wenxin lay facedown. A small spot of crimson blood stained the floor directly under his head, and next to him, the fragile remains of the butterfly lay, its bright wings in pieces.

_I've got to...call help, _Rhea thought groggily.

The journalist glanced dazedly around the room, searching for her purse. Her work-issued cell phone was in there. Derks Beck had firmly ordered her not to use it for any other purpose than journalistic business, but an emergency like this had to be an exception. After a moment she spotted the bag. It had slipped from her arm and fallen under the desk as she and Wenxin had struggled. As hurriedly as she could, she reached for the blurry-purse shaped object on the floor, her fingers searching again. She stretched too far and slumped over, whining in pain as her ribs cracked on the side of the desk. The young woman groaned and sank down to the floor, but as she did her hand reached the bag and slid inside.

That's when Wenxin's still body began to move again. He moaned and lifted his head, his owl-eyed glasses askew. Her sudden burst of rage rapidly shriveled as he arose, and Rhea watched with a wide, horrified stare as he turned towards her. A thin rivulet of blood ran into his vengeful, angry eyes. He looked like a crazed, wild creature - inhuman.

"You _bitch_," he spat out hatefully. "I'll make you sorry."

He lurched forward unsteadily, and Rhea noticed a small glint near his waist. Her gaze shifted down his wiry frame and gradually focused on a long, thin, but undeniably sharp shard of broken glass in his left hand. Wenxin's eyes grew huge and round behind his glasses, crazed with rage and bloodlust. He raised the jagged-edge weapon and took another step towards her, slashing back and forth wildly.

Rhea shrieked and removed her hand from her bag, attempting to lift her arms to shield her face, but the drug in her system was still making her movements sluggish. The next thing she knew, a hot slit was cut across her cheek, just underneath her right eye. Blood spilled from the gash and scarlet stained the top of her jacket and shirt. Another ragged scream tore itself from her lips.

Wenxin swung the razor-sharp glass again, but this time Rhea dodged the blow by ducking her head. The weapon lodged itself firmly into the wall, and her attacker's hand sliced open on the glass's opposite edge and cursed loudly. Instead of attempting to retrieve the shard to slash at her again, he stumbled clumsily to his knees and tried to slip his hands around her neck, but the blood spilling from their wounds made his grip slippery. Rhea was able to shake him off and plunge her right hand into her purse again. Her fingers frantically probing the inside of her bag for her phone. But instead her digits closed around another object - long, thin, and pointed: A pen.

Rhea's fearful eyes grew round as she turned back to face her assailant. Wenxin's bloody hands stretched towards her neck again, his lips twisted into a vicious, hungry snarl. Panic seized her again, but she couldn't afford to wait. She had to do something - _anything _- to save herself.

The young woman felt her fingers close deliberately around the pen and yank it out of the bag...just as her crazed attacker's hands twisted around her throat and began to squeeze.

"You goddamned bitch," he hissed again. "You'll scream. I'll make you _squeal_."

The pen closed tightly in her fist, Rhea stared back into his wild, reddened eyes, an unexpected defiance stirring in her heart. It gave her a sudden strength. She raised her makeshift weapon in front of Wenxin's face, determined not to be his victim any longer.

"No," she gasped breathlessly, "you _won't_."

And then she plunged the pointed end of the pen forward and deep into Wenxin's left eye. It burst like a cherry tomato being stuck with a skewer: Wet, runny, and just as red.

Her would-be killer's horrific scream of pain tore through the air, reverberating in the small space and causing the frames full of brightened butterflies to shudder on the walls. He vaulted backwards off of her and clasped his bleeding face in both of his hands, writhing on the ground just feet away in agony. Rhea was frozen on the ground near the desk, her eyes still partially masked and her body weakened by the poison coursing through her system. Her vision dimmed and darkened as she gazed up at the ceiling, hardly believing what she'd just done. Her attacker's anguished cries gradually reduced to pain-filled moans, but he didn't move, and eventually he grew altogether quiet.

After a few minutes of silence, Rhea's sudden strength had all but disappeared, and she was struck with a fresh attack of anxiety. She had to struggle with her frantic thoughts just to remember her phone. The young reporter turned painfully over and dug her hand back into her purse, which was still crumpled underneath the desk. After a few seconds of shuffling her fingers, she found the object she was searching for and withdrew it from the bag. She was exhausted and traumatized, so even the small, flat phone in her hand felt as heavy as a lead weight. The young woman hardly had the strength to lift it to her face so she could see the screen. But with her vision waning and her fingers growing increasingly clumsy, all she could manage to do was press the redial button before she slumped over for good.

She was vaguely aware of a ringtone echoing, but it sounded very, very far away. Rhea's sight began to shrink before her, and she knew her body was finally giving in to the drugs Wenxin had forced on her. Then she heard a familiar voice - a stern male voice - coming from the phone.

"Hello? Miss Satto?" It was the voice of her boss, Derks Beck. He sounded annoyed. "Hello?"

Rhea fought to keep ahold of her consciousness. Her lips felt numb. "Mr. Beck...please…" she gradually forced out. Her voice was weak, no more than a flutter of sound.

The voice on the other line sounded slightly more concerned now. "What's going on, Miss Satto?"

"Attacked...help…" the injured journalist breathed. She wasn't even able to form complete sentences any longer. "Tanzo...District…"

"Tanzo?!" Beck sounded truly alarmed now. "What were you doing there? Are you hurt? Miss Satto? Are you hurt?!"

But Rhea could no longer answer. The phone dropped from her hand and clanked loudly against the floor, and her head hung limply down to her chest. Her world had shrunk into a dark oblivion beyond all perception, and no matter how loudly Beck shouted from the receiver, she was beyond reach.

But before she floated away completely, the painted face of a certain magician flashed through her foggy mind once more. This was all his fault - a meticulous, cruel, and ridiculous plan he set into motion by sending her here. So just before she slipped into the murky waters of unconsciousness, Rhea cursed his name a final time.

_Hisoka._

...

**Additional Author's Notes: **Another chapter done! How's that for a cliffhanger?

Hisoka fans, I'm so sorry I wasn't able to fit any scenes with him in this chapter! I tried to add another part at the end, but it just just didn't feel right! There will be plenty of our favorite lovable psychopath in future chapters; I just have a very deliberate method for building and towards the next confrontation Hisoka and Rhea will share. Well, at the very least I had Rhea thinking plenty about him and the nasty trick he played. What do you think of his devious ways?

Once again, a huge, extra sweet "Thank you!" to my readers and reviewers! I appreciate each and every ounce of feedback I get. Love you guys!

My shoutouts and review responses for chapter two are below; don't forget to leave me note!

**For adding **_**Softly, Darkly**_** to their faves, thank you to: **Animelover3232, TheAnonymousDeviant, Thehisokalover, and Bloodytitanslayer7

**For adding Softly, Darkly to their alerts, thank you to: **Animelover3232, Natsukoni, Unsatisfied-Gluttony, and TheAnonymous Deviant.

**Reviewer Responses:**

ClockworkShadowX: Thanks so much for the extra long review, Shadow! You rock, and I loved reading your feedback. I'm very glad you liked the chapter, especially the dialogue. I'm also relieved to hear that I seem to have pegged Hisoka right. Achieving a state where you can describe him as "charming" and "terrifying" in the same sentence has me over the moon! If I made him a little too harsh in the first chapter, it was because I was trying to portray him from Rhea's perspective, and for her, he's truly horrifying - at least at first. As for your questions, yes, there is a reason that Rhea could "sense" Hisoka's malice at the end of the last chapter. You'll have to wait a little while to find out why. However, now you know that Hisoka's little hint most certainly led Rhea into peril! Speaking of my OC, I'm glad you seem to like her. I'm trying to scatter little clues regarding her personality and past throughout each chapter. I actually was not aware that I was focusing on different aspects of each character when I switched points of view, but when I went back...yeah, I see that you're absolutely right! Thanks for illuminating that for me! Once again, thank you ever so much for the review; I really appreciate it!

FinalFlashX: Thanks again for another wonderful review, Flash! Yeah, you were right on the money if you thought you'd read the first section of this chapter before - I sent it to you a while back before I published it. Thanks for your feedback on it! I'm glad you though it was perfect for Hisoka. I certainly hope I can keep it up! I'm also very happy to hear that you think that I got Hisoka's mannerisms and personality right, even when I'm describing him from Rhea's perspective. One thing I pride myself on is my ability to speak from different character's points of view and still remain true to their personality, but with a character as mysterious as Hisoka, it was kind of difficult to get that same sense. And oh my gosh, yes, I'm so thankful you appreciate the fact that I'm not trying to soften him up to make him more likable! I think many authors want to get their character involved with their OC so fast that they force them into an unrealistic scenario where they are interested in one another too quickly. If you do that, though, you're killing the thing that makes Hisoka so interesting and unpredictable, and you immediately end up with a more boring version of him. I really tried my best to do his character justice, including his dark desires and amoral values, so it's great to see that you thought I pulled it off. I'll try to keep it up. Thanks so, so much once again!

Unsatisfied-Gluttony: Hello back! Thanks so much for your kind words; I'm so happy you enjoyed reading my story. I'm overjoed you like Rhea. She's my first OC in ages, and it's good to come back and create a character from scratch. I tried to create a character that would be different from most other OCs out there. Yes, she is determined, and I'm glad you want to cheer her on! Her quest is just beginning! Oh, and the most wonderful compliment you can give me is that I inspired your own writing. THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart for that. As a teacher and a writer, that's my dream, right there. Thanks again!

serianri: Thanks again for another review! I'm very happy to hear that you think the pace of the narrative is interesting. I have a tendency to get extremely detailed, especially early on when I'm trying very hard to "paint the scene", as you so eloquently put it, and establish my characters. You're absolutely right about my careful depiction of Hisoka's character. He's very enigmatic and hard to pin down sometimes, especially when you're writing him in scenes unlike anything you've ever seen in the manga or anime. That's one of the reasons I'm trying to ease the readers - and Rhea - into getting to know him. Another reason is that I'm trying to build the suspense. Whatever the reason, I'm trying to keep as true to his character as possible, so I'm thankful that you seem to think that I achieve that! Thanks again!

nathylie: Yay! I'm glad you think the story is getting more interesting! Thank you for saying that I got Hisoka's portrayal perfectly, and an even bigger thanks for complimenting Rhea. She's my first OC in a very long time, so I really tried to make her as detailed, interesting, and unique as possible. I'm so glad you're pleased! Thanks for another review!

Thehisokalover: Hey there again! Thanks so much for adding the story to your favorites! I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter and couldn't wait for this one. I hope you weren't disappointed that Hisoka didn't actually appear...he'll be in the next chapter for sure! Thanks ever so much for another review!

cool crazy one: Thanks for the review! I'm glad you like the story and would like to see me carry on. Wish granted! I'm glad you seem to like my OC Rhea and the speed at which I'm developing her relationship with Hisoka. I'm being very careful to take the progression of their getting-to-know-you process slowly, and with much suspense. Thanks again!

missidc: "BLOODY GRACE!" Haha, your review made me crack up. Thanks so much for giving me the feedback. I'm so flattered to hear that my story is the one you've been searching for and that you seem so excited to read it! I'll definitely keep updating. Thank you so much!


End file.
